Heavy
We're on day four of this trip and already it feels like it's been a lifetime. We've flown halfway across the country and driven more than 600 miles up and around the state of Texas to visit family. Two days with my biological mother and a day and a half with my aunt and grandmother. Super-fast trip, but not so fast that the heaviness doesn't have time to sink in.
My family's history, like that of so many other families, is one built on half-truths and myths, secrets and regrets. But there are sweet memories, too, and laughs.
Visiting with my grandmother today brought a sense of bittersweetness. Joyful memories and the weighty realization that this might be the last time I see her.
She recognized me--my aunt was afraid that she wouldn't--and she got to meet Cory and she told me he was handsome. She held my hand tightly and told me I was beautiful. I told her I loved her, she said she loved me, too. We shared a few memories as she sipped on the beer that Linda brought her, and then finally I could tell she was exhausted and it was time to leave. She wanted me to spend the night in her room--like I used to when I was a child and, even sometimes, a teenager.
Instead, I kissed her goodbye and promised I'd see her again.
Somehow, someway, in some other lifetime, I know I will.
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